In the Beginning
by James Church
Summary: The beginning of Delos...starts with an investment meeting. Rated T for implied violent and sexual assault imagery.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

It is a bland, only slightly decorated meeting room. It occupies a small section of the 75th floor of the Uchiyamada Building in Tokyo. The people sitting around the table are a variety of various nationalities. Two American men, a Japanese woman, a Chinese man, and an Argentinean man. Another woman, at the head of the table, is a Canadian named Denise Sheffield.

A buzzer sounds, and Ms. Sheffield presses a lit panel on the table. 34 year-old Dr. Robert Ford walks in, followed by a young tall, blonde woman in a short white dress.

"Doctor Ford, thank you for coming," Sheffield begins, "Our group has been reviewing your proposal and frankly we have a lot of questions before we even consider your request. Would you like to sit down?"

"Oh?" Ford responds in a soft, bemused tone. He remains standing as does the young woman. "What questions?"

Sheffield gives a confused look to the other members of her group, and then she continues "Well, for one…let's start with the cost." She presses another lit panel on the table and a display comes up behind Ford, repeated in front of all the people sitting around the table, and on the screen behind Sheffield. "Thirty-seven….BILLION…dollars or the equivalent in initial start-up funds." She expands the details and reads further. "Eight billion in land purchase on some island."

"And that's granting they will sell it to us," adds a Mr. Zhang, "Some of that is privately-owned, some is Government-owned."

Denise Sheffield continues, "Six billion in construction and 'environmental control'?" She looks at Ford, puzzled. Ford simply smiles pleasantly and lets her continue. "Another eight billion for facilities." She takes a breath "Four billion for equipment, resources, designs, logistics, supplies, etc. Then another seven billion for something called 'Host and Livestock' costs? The rest under 'Miscellaneous'."

She looks at another display. "With a projected construction time of three years, plus another three years of …" She stares down at the display "What you term 'research, testing, analysis', by you and your team?"

"Yes, Ms. Sheffield," Ford says, still pleasantly smiling, "Exactly correct."

She looks at him intently. "And yet, Doctor Ford, aside from the nebulous term 'greatest entertainment park ever constructed' and the title 'West World', you are giving us no specifics on exactly what this park is or what it will provide clients, or how 'we' will profit from it?"

Ford takes a moment. Then downloads his own Pad onto the table-top display. A computer-generated image of an American Old West town appears. The animation shows men, women, children dressed in attire of the late 1800s, walking about. Two men engage in a gunfight. Prostitutes in a saloon are seen enticing cowboys into their establishment. It cuts to Native Americans in full tribal regalia charging down a canyon on horseback, attacking a stagecoach. A buffalo herd thunders across a prairie.

"Westworld," Ford says simply. "An immersive theme park, where guests can live out a fantasy of the Western Frontier of the 1870s. Gunfights, dalliances with saloon girls, bounty hunting, whole…narratives, you might call them…that the guests can indulge in."

A Ms. Sakamoto at the table rolls her eyes and sighs. "We've seen this kind of thing before, Doctor Ford. You get a bunch of people, throw them onto a movie set, and let them blast away at each other with paintball guns." She smirks. "Nothing we haven't seen before. Oh, but hiring prostitutes for the saloon girls might get us in some legal trouble." She laughs slightly; most of the rest of the group join her.

A Mr. Richards from the United States adds "And they were a helluva lot cheaper than thirty-seven billion dollars, Ford."

Ford shifts the animation. A man in a black cowboy hat sticks a knife into the head of a bespectacled man in bowler hat. Blood flows from the victim's mouth and his eye bulges and then actually pops out. As the investors gasp, Ford switches the image to a nude young woman being raped in a barn by a greasy cowboy with a stubble beard; his trousers down at his ankles. She is screaming and thrashing. The cowboy punches her across the face and continues to assault her. He finishes, hikes up his pants, and then shoots the woman in the head. Her jaw distends and blood pours out the wound.

"Jesus God!" Sheffield exclaims. Richards nearly yells "Goddammit, Ford!…what the hell was that?" The others respond in kind, some in their native language. The image returns to the bucolic image of the Wild West town at noon, citizens wandering about.

"Let me explain," Robert Ford begins in a professorial manner, "The man you saw stabbed to death…and the girl who was raped and murdered….will not be human. They will not be real."

The people around the table calm a bit. Ford continued, "They will be the…'hosts'…a term Arnold and I have arrived at. Simply but highly inaccurately….robots. Still inaccurate, but closer…androids. They will appear human externally, have human personality simulations, but will be artificial. Made by me and my team." He stopped the image.

"Guests will be able live out their deepest desires…or darkest fantasies" he continues, "And it will be as realistic as anything would have been in that time." He smiles slightly. "There will be story-lines…again, narratives I call them. Rescuing the cattle rancher's daughter, killing the villain, the rancher's daughter falls in love with the hero, and everyone rides off into the sunset." His smile grows more. "New narratives will come on-line every six or eight months, to insure return business."

"Hang on a minute," the other American, Hernandez, speaks up. "Code for that kind of cybernetics is probably at least a decade away. And that means, even if you get the hardware …I mean, the robot…working, it'll still act like a toy at an electronics fair."

"Ahh," Ford replies, "Well, for the technical aspects, I'll let my assistant Angela respond." The young blonde woman, who had quietly been standing at the back wall, smiles and steps forward as Ford retreats. "Mr. Hernandez, I think you'll find that Dr. Ford's artificial intelligence code is quite capable of operating a humaniform robot with all the responses, both physical and social, to make it appear fully human."

She activates the download again. Streams of code flow past the display. She continues. "This is based on several algorithms set up by Dr. Ford using his Nobel Prize-winning research. The software acts in concert with ultra-high speed nano-processors that provide human-like response in times down to milliseconds." She shuts the image off.

"Basically, the 'host', as Dr. Ford has decided to call them," Angela giggles slightly looking at Ford, then back to the group, "Could pass as a human in any social situation. Along, of course, its programming guidelines." She puts a hand on the table, leaning forward, demonstrably. "And would easily mimic human actions and even physical responses."

Hernandez smirks. "Yes, miss. That 'sounds' nice, but I'd really like some evidence of that?"

Angela smiles again and walks over to Hernandez. He turns around in his chair and stares up at her, puzzled. She sits herself down on his lap. "What the…" Angela pushes a finger up to his lips. "Rafael? Can I call you Rafael?" she asks, putting her arm around his shoulder, "You're heavily invested in robotics, right?" Hernandez nods. "So you're rather acquainted with cybernetic programming, right?" He nods again. "What kind of 'evidence' would you like to see, exactly?"

The other members of the investment group stare, while Hernandez shifts uncomfortably. His eyes drift just briefly onto Angela' bust-line, highlighted by the extremely tight dress fabric, and he gives the smallest of glances at her long legs, exposed from mid-thigh downward. "Uhm, well, such…programming…would need to both be able to operate the…uh..construct…in a life-like manner and movements….and…uh… be adaptable to such…well…improvisational aspects of a normal conversation or interaction."

Angela nods thoughtfully, and then she strokes Hernandez's cheek. She very subtly moves her right breast closer to his face. "Yes, it would. So that the guest…at Westworld…would feel like he was talking to and interacting with a real human being? Right?"

"Uh…yes. Miss, what the hell are you d…" Before Hernandez could finish, Angela kisses him. She offers no tongue, but sucks upon the man's lips. Hernandez momentarily caught off guard almost responds…then he pushes her away.

At that, Angela rises off his lap. Walks back to the end of the table and stands, smiling at him. A quick wink with her right eye is given to Hernandez. Robert Ford says "Deactivate."

"Angela" freezes. She is utterly frozen in place. "Open facial access," Ford off-handedly asks. Another gasp comes from the investors as "Angela's" face…splits… along four lines and then opens up to her inner skull, exposing black plastic "bone", connected to artificial ligaments and musculature. Hernandez's mouth drops. Mr. Richards mutters "Good God". Similar responses come in Japanese, Chinese, and Spanish.

Ford smiles. "Close facial access." The parts of "Angela's" face close, then seal shut, presenting nothing but a normal human face on the woman. "Angela? Re-activate." The "woman" acts normally again, still smiling at the group. "Angela? You may wait outside please." The robot nods to Ford and to the other humans again and then walks out the door, shutting it behind her.

"Our first prototype of the First Generation." Ford looks towards the door. "I think I'll keep the 'shell' but she'll need upgrades of course later."

Sheffield gathers her composure. "Doct…Doctor Ford" She swallows. "That…thing…." "Host," Ford corrects. Sheffield ignores him and continues "She could go for hours? Talking, interacting, etc? Appearing totally human?"

Ford nods appreciatively. "The battery life is quite long. The programming is sufficient for days, even weeks of credible responses, during a narrative. If shot or stabbed or punched or harmed in any of numerous ways, they would bleed, wince, choke, scream, etc. Just like a real person."

He looks at Hernandez humorously. "As Mr. Hernandez can attest, they feel quite human to the touch." Rafael Hernandez looks embarrassed…then thoughtful.

Ford turns to the others and shrugs slightly. "And before you ask….yes, the vagina, mouth, anus, or penis in male units, would function exactly as a human's would. Though there is no digestion system as yet. Food and drinks, consumed, are stored in the stomach area and siphoned off later during maintenance." He pauses thoughtfully. "Newer models will likely have fully functional digestion simulation."

Silence greets him. Mr. Zhang then asks "Uh…the 'host'…is damaged? How much will repairs cost?" Ford nods "Practically nothing. The simulated flesh and even internal mechanisms are easily re-built with our constructor and repair units. Simulated blood created by the gallons for a few hundred dollars."

Sakamoto asks "Would they…remember…being killed?" Ford's eyes widen and a broad smile crosses his face. "Good question, Ms. Sakamoto…no. After 'death', their memories would be wiped and their programming restored to the previous loop."

"Oh my God," Richards begins, "We're going to make a fortune." He grins. The others at first are off-put by his open declaration. Then gradually, a few join him, including Hernandez. Sheffield's face is unreadable. She studies the prospectus display again.

Ford, sensing the rest of the group's new interest, brings up his downloaded display again. Now, it shows a simple spread-sheet. He begins, "We charge the guests a standard fee of $40,000 a day. Guest services per day…food, alcohol, etc….easily covered by that. In fact, I have some long-range plans for local agriculture, which would defray it even more." Ford enlarges another portion. "My post-development staff will be quite small. Some security and programmers, designers, general work staff, etc. So their salaries will be a small portion, as well." He smiles slightly. "That staff can even be reduced further later on."

The investors study the figures on the display in front of them…except for Sheffield who stares at Robert Ford, pensive. The British scientist continues "Figuring in maintenance, materials, transportation, power, other logistics costs…and an ability to operate at least 360 days a year…." He presses a final tally slot on the display. "In the first two years of full operations, and standard capacity of guests…five hundred to seven hundred-fifty. We…you…should see a yearly profit of six billion to nine billion dollars a year. In a little over three years? You'll have made your entire investment back and be looking strictly at profit."

Silence greeted Ford again. Smiles creep across the face of Richards, Hernandez, Sakamoto, the rest of the investors. But again, not on Sheffield's.

Mr. Alvarez, the Argentinean investor, asks in slightly accented English, "You said there would be…'stories'….uh…'narratives'?"

Ford nods. "Yes, to keep things fresh for returning guests. We'd have new ways for them to involve themselves. The experience wouldn't be very…profitable…to the guests…or us all…if it was the same every time." He shrugs. "I have a small staff already working on that."

Mr. Zhang looks up. "I notice, Doctor Ford, you are keeping the corporate leadership role and the stock majority for yourself and your partner? What is it called?" He looks down. "Delos?" Ford nods. "Only fair, yes? My idea, my world."

Sheffield finally speaks up. "But OUR money, Doctor." She looks at him intently. "You realize that, of course?" Ford nods near subserviently. "Oh, of course, Ms. Sheffield. As members of the Board of Directors, you will all, of course, be fed constant reports. Profit statements, updates, etc. Perhaps mon…"

"And," Sheffield interrupts, "Inspections by a Board representative on an occasional basis?"

Ford smiles again. "Of course. They'd be most welcome, most welcome. They will also be very impressed, I assure you." Sheffield nods just slightly, and then turns to the group.

"Well, Doctor, your proposal has certainly been…'very impressive', as you say." She shuts down the display in front of her. "We'll need a day or so to discuss this. And you'll be informed of our decision very soon."

Ford nods. "Thank you for your consideration, ladies and gentlemen." He walks out.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"Holy shit" Hernandez begins.

He continues. "Did you all see what I saw? That wo…that thing. I couldn't see any sign it was a gynoid." He shakes his head slightly. "She made that crap at the last International Tech Expo last year look like clothing store mannequins."

Richards grins. "You thought you were getting laid for sure tonight, huh, Rafe?" He chuckles.

"Gentlemen" Sheffield chastises, "Let's be serious."

Richards only slightly composes himself. "I AM serious. You realize the business that those 'life-like girl' sex toys generate? Imagine some guy going to this 'Western World'…" Zhang interrupts "Westworld." "Whatever, Xinyu" Richards continues, "A guy gets to have sex with something that looks and feels and reacts like a real woman…no chance of an STD, no chance of pregnancy…" He looks at the others in the room. "And let's be frank, no chance of exposing you on a website or live-stream interview?"

"Bob's particular interests aside," Mr. Alvarez of Buenos Aires speaks up; Richards sneers. "Don't forget this ability to 'play cowboy' and go blasting up a town or taking down some villain in a black hat. Being an American Western cowboy star like that Kent Eastwood or Tommy Mehia." "Clint…Eastwood," Zhang corrects again. Alvarez shrugs. "And not just paintball splatters. But as realistic as an actual gunfight."

Ms. Sakamoto speaks. "This will be an incredible money-maker. I've reviewed Ford's figures again and I find no flaw in them. He's right. A minimum yearly profit of six to nine billion. His automation and other systems, plus the low post-development staffing and supply logistics, mean almost negligible cost after the start-up." She nods slightly. "Word of mouth among the wealthy would even preclude the need for an advertising campaign after a year or two." She goes back to studying the figures.

"I don't know, maybe we should take this slow," Denise Sheffield says.

"What?" Bob Richards responds, "Are you frickin' kidding me, Denise? The guy's handing us a gold mine and all we have to do is pay for a few shovels. If we don't jump on this right now, Ford will be going to the guys at TransDev or Yūfukuna by next week!"

Sheffield shakes her head slightly. "I don't know…I don't …trust him."

Zhang Xinyu looks puzzled and says "Denise, if you're worried about him stealing from us, you know our lawyers and accountants can…"

Sheffield waves him off. "No, it's not about the money. He'll let us have the money…I'm sure of that."

"Then what?" Richards asks.

Denise Sheffield's face pinches up. "I don't know…he's …weird."

Rafael Hernandez laughs. "I don't care if he's into letting that blonde 'droid peg him while he's dressed like a sheep, Denise." Richards laughs, the others, except Sheffield, smile a bit but remained glued to studying Ford's spreadsheet on their display. Hernandez continues "Bob's right. This is a gold mine. It's like getting in on the ground-floor of Disney when it started a century ago. And all we have to do is supply 'Walt' with some pen and paper to make his first cartoon."

Sheffield sighs. "Yes, Rafael, obviously the idea itself and the technology are like the goose that laid the golden egg. But I just …worry about Ford himself. He's got a strange vibe."

Richards shakes his head, leans back in his chair. "Look, I only have two concerns. One, making sure we get a return on our investment. And two, any potential liability. Shinzo and Michaela will lock down our investment return in the contracts. And we'll get a liability shield for the corporation and a release the 'guests' will have to sign, so nobody can sue us if they break their neck falling off a robot horse." He shrugs. "We'll make a shitload of money, be covered eight ways to Sunday… and that's all I care about."

"I'm with Bob. A hundred percent," Rafael Hernandez adds.

Sheffield nods, looks to Sakamoto. "Natsuko?" The Japanese woman looks up from her display. "I see no problem." She smiles a shy but knowing smile. "Only profit." Sheffield nods.

"Xinyu?" Zhang rubs his chin, then he nods once to Sakamoto and looks to Sheffield. "I agree with Natsuko. From what I see, there is little concern and great opportunity."

"Eduardo?" The stoic Argentinean nods and states flatly "Yes."

Richards speaks up. "Denise, you know where me and Rafe stand. You're the final vote. Yes or no? Are we going in with Ford on this 'Delos' project?"

Denise Sheffield breathes out heavily. "I'll go along with the rest of the group. I just hope my feeling on Ford is wrong." She smirks. "I'll tell you one thing though…I'll never go to the damn place."

The meeting adjourns.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

As they rode the elevator down alone from the 75th floor, Robert Ford turns to "Angela". "You did very well in there." She smiles. "Thank you. It was very helpful knowing Mr. Hernandez and Mr. Richards psychological background."

Ford nods. "Yes, hacking their personal communication and Internet traffic gave us a clear advantage." He smiles slightly. "Mr. Hernandez penchant for blondes and Mr. Richards various sexual dalliances, put them on our side immediately after your demonstration."

"Yes, sir," Angela agreed, "Apparently, Ms. Sakamoto, Mr. Zhang, and Mr. Alvarez were equally seduced by the financial figures. I'm not sure of Ms. Sheffield's response?"

"She'll go along with the others, I'm sure."

Ford looks skyward and then back to the elevator doors. "Of course, as my project proceeds, that profitability will decline. And they or their successors will grow increasingly concerned and increasingly intrusive. Eventually, it will become necessary to establish more control over Delos by myself."

"What project is that, Doctor?" Angela asks innocently.

Ford smiles kindly at her as the doors of the elevator open at the Lobby Level. "Oh, nothing for you to concern yourself with at all."

They step out into the lobby and head for the exit.


End file.
